


they remember

by casualhomesatanism



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Gen, Past Child Abuse, The End, and i'm kinda in love with chara, frisk and chara sharing memories, memories mostly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-02
Updated: 2016-01-02
Packaged: 2018-05-11 02:18:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5610205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/casualhomesatanism/pseuds/casualhomesatanism
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You expect them to withdraw. Instead, they become gentle but ever more persistent, until the thrumming presence of their soul intertwined with your mind is a constant.</p>
<p>So when you wake up in your own mind, all you can feel is the gaping ache where that warmth used to be.</p>
            </blockquote>





	they remember

Your memories come back, bit by bit, when Frisk least expects them to. They wake up one morning and remember Asriel’s clammy palms on your forehead, his soft whispers and huge gulping sobs, dying in his arms. In return, they spend hours in Toriel’s lap, asking for story after story to fill the silent static between you. You expect them to withdraw. Instead, they become gentle but ever more persistent, until the thrumming presence of their soul intertwined with your mind is a constant.

They remember Asriel carrying you to his bed—a bed you’d want to wake up in—and curling up around you when night terrors leave you immobilized. They remember the nightmares themselves, too. And then the impetus behind them. They find, all in the space of one echoing cavern of a mind, the scars on your body and the bitter, rotting fugue in your head. But it abates when they comfort you. No words are needed when your consciousness is part of theirs, only the staid presence of their understanding and lowercase-love. They’re growing older, gathering memories of their own, and you’ll never understand how they can handle yours as well.

Frisk remembers sitting on Asgore’s shoulders, overstimulated and filled to the brim with static as you greeted the crowds of monsters with a vacant wave. They remember lashing out at Toriel’s gentle paws when she tried to apply her healing magic to the welt on your head, three days after you fell. They remember too-silent nights and sunlight mildewed by the grimy windows of your first home, the one where you thought you would die. If only you could’ve known how far your soul would travel. It’s splintered and faint and ought to be dead by now, its last energy drained in helping Asriel muster all the world’s power to break the barrier, but it lives on, bandaged by Frisk’s compassion.

So when you wake up in your own mind, all you can feel is the gaping ache where that warmth used to be. Actually, your head feels like a vacuum without Frisk; there’s too much space for any one mind to survive, you think, until you realize that it’s all filled up with twice as many memories as you deserve. You still feel rotten, but only around the edges. Something has healed. Something is right. And it’s Frisk at your side, still looking at you with the wordless, soul-filling empathy, their hand sliding into yours with such certainty, the peaceful emptiness of their face reflecting the tumultuous emptiness of yours. For the first time in your existence, living and dead, you feel like crying—of loss, without Frisk’s cocoon of a mind to keep you in comfort, but of relief, too, because you have the brightest second chance anyone could get.

You remember Asriel in the Ruins, the last time you’ll ever see him, through Frisk’s eyes.

You remember love.

**Author's Note:**

> my tiny sad green soul is devoted to chara  
> at first i thought frisk was my favorite character (aka basically me) but the more i thought about pacifist chara and little chara growing up with asriel the more i realized that they make my heart ache just by existing  
> im sad


End file.
